


Hang Our Hopes on the Stars

by cloverfield



Series: A World Where We Belong [2]
Category: Cardcaptor Sakura
Genre: M/M, M/M/M, NSFW, Wing Kink, Wrangling OT3 Relationships, wing play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 00:26:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1760681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloverfield/pseuds/cloverfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to 'The Moon and Back'; in which Touya makes dessert, Yukito and Yue come to an agreement, and there is snow all over the living room floor. Touya/Yukito/Yue. Complete. NSFW.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hang Our Hopes on the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to 'The Moon and Back', originally written for a timestamp meme I did a few years back. Consider this to take place a little while after the previous, long enough for Yukito to have a few conversations with his other self. (Also, we're still working with cheesy titles from cheesy lovesongs.)

Touya is halfway through making Yukito his third sundae for the evening ( _ice cream and fudge and sprinkles and marshmallows and all manner of unhealthy things, but gods, he’d let Yukito drink the chocolate sauce straight from the bottle as long as his face keeps lighting up the way it always does when Touya makes him dessert_) when Yuki suddenly stands up from the couch and says in his soft, warm voice, “oh.”

Touya drops a second spoon in the bowl, licks a stripe of topping from the back of his hand. “Oh?” he asks, but Yuki isn’t quite ready to speak yet; there’s this  _look_  unfolding across his features, something gentle and understanding and more than a little beautiful, and when Yuki finally smiles, big and wide and wonderful, something cool and familiar races down his spine.

“ _Yue_. He, he wants to…  _oh_. I thought it would take longer than this,” and Yukito is not quite talking to him any more, not really, because that smile turns inwards, as though Yuki is looking at something only he can see. He is silent for a moment, just standing in the middle of the lounge room floor, wriggling his toes into the carpet in the same absent-minded way he always has- but Yuki is not all there, some part of him that Touya normally only sees by moonlight glowing translucent beneath pale skin. “Mm,” continues Yukito, “I see,” eyes dreamy and distant, and Touya crosses the room to put his sundae on the coffee table for want of something to do more than anything else.

“I don’t mind,” says Yukito, as Touya seats himself, settling down on the cushions and taking a bite of the mountainous dessert he’s concocted. If Yue is talking to Yukito now, he’ll not interrupt; some things are private between the two of them, and although he is happy to let the moon spirit know he is welcome ( _any time, always welcome_ ) to join into any of their conversations, he has no wish to intrude where he is not wanted. Ice cream melts on his tongue, chased by ripples of chocolate and the sugary crunch of a scattered handful of sprinkles, and he licks his spoon clean while he waits. Patience has always served him well where Yue is concerned, after all.

Yukito shudders then, a slow ripple of movement washing down his slender frame, making his back arch and his head tips back a little. Touya feels something breathless and tight bunch up in his chest, beneath the cool slide of icecream down to his belly; he barely tastes the next mouthful even as the metal of the spoon clinks gently against his teeth. “Yes, it’s  _alright_ , please just-” and Yuki swallows, throat bobbing, eyes hooded and heavy as his gaze flicks to Touya himself, “-if I had a problem with it, I wouldn’t have encouraged you in the first place.”

_That’s interesting_ , thinks Touya, because Yukito is looking a little cross now; something determined creases the line of his brow, and his arms fold across his chest. Long fingers, made calloused by archery, tap impatiently on the gentle swell of his bicep. “Yue, if you do not believe me, you will have to ask for yourself.” Whatever answer Yukito receives is silent to Touya, but it must have been the right one, because a soft glow suffuses Yuki’s slender frame, welling up beneath pale skin in a wash of light and cool, crisp magic. Without even thinking his fingers tighten on his spoon, and anticipation ( _yes, anticipation, wanting and unexpected warmth_) tangles in his stomach.

“I’m still here,” Yukito says to Touya, smiling now, carpet glowing beneath his feet, stretching up on his toes to throw his arms wide as the air grows tight and cold with Yue’s power, and the next breath Touya takes whistles down his throat with the taste of powdered snow and feathers, “I’ll still come back. But later. He wants something, and he rarely wants  _anything_ , and it will be good for all three of us if he gets that chance…” There’s no question of who ‘he’ is, as moonlight ripples out from his frame in a strobing flare of cool, sharp light. “Be nice to him, To-ya,” whispers Yuki, making his heart skip, but then Touya has to shield his eyes for a moment, spoon dangling awkwardly from his fingers, and when he looks back feathers brush the ceiling as Yue stretches his wings out, wingtips dangerously close to the light fitting.

Violet-grey eyes, silver where the light hits them, dart from Touya’s face to the floor, to the wing-swept ceiling, to Yue’s own hands, twisting together anxiously in front of him, and Touya feels a bittersweet pang of affection for the other’s awkwardness. Because Yue is nervous -nervous!- and that it is  _him_  making this being, this moon spirit with providence over magic and justice, this mystic construct of ice and wind,  _nervous_  is enough to make Touya smile up at that confused ( _gorgeous_ ) face.

“Hello, Yue. You wanted to speak to me?” He drops the spoon gently on the table, ignores the icecream melting into a sweet sugary mess before him and sits back, throwing one arm over the back of the couch. It’s either that, or reach out a hand to the person before him, Yue shifting a little as his wings fold themselves down with a susurrant rustle of feathers and a cool swirl of wind, and he doubts that such a gesture would be well received.

( _not yet at least_ )

Slowly, and with great hesitance, Yue takes a step forward- though his eyes still dart away from Touya’s face.

“I won’t bite,” says Touya, after a little while, unable to stop the amusement in his voice bleeding through. He is rewarded with a glare, pale brows knotting as Yue frowns, lifting his chin in an almost regal expression of disdain- but there is a warmth in silvered eyes that belies his cool demeanour and Touya chuckles. Yue’s face softens at the sound, a gentle smile smoothing over thin lips.

“Yukito said you’d find this amusing. I suppose he was right.” He takes another step, still hesitant.

“Yuki’s right about a lot of things,” says Touya, dimly aware of his heartrate picking up speed. There is a fluttering kind of feeling in his stomach now, building as the moment draws out longer and longer, and maybe his pounding heart ( _yes, pounding now, beating madly against his rib_ s) is louder than he thought as slitted pupils swell just a little wider. “Why don’t you sit down?” Yue blinks at him, somehow managing to convey sarcasm, amusement and something like embarrassment in one simple motion as feathers rustle just slightly. “ _Right_ , wings,” says Touya, and shifts over on the couch, lifting his arm from the arm rest. “If you sit there, you should be alright.”

Yue doesn’t sit though, just takes another step across the carpet, and there is something bright and ( _wonderful_ ) new in catslit eyes. He’s barely an arm’s length from Touya now, and when Touya opens his mouth to ask something, he doesn’t even know what, the words trip and stutter themselves into nothingness as Yue sways forward, slowly, and settles himself into Touya’s lap.

“If you don’t mind,” says Yue softly, making himself comfortable in much the same way a cat would, and tossing his head imperiously so that long hair tumbles neatly down his back. Feathers brush the tops of Touya’s bare feet where folded wings trail onto the carpet.

“No, it’s… fine,” and Touya swallows as his voice cracks in a way it hasn’t since he was fourteen. Yue arches his eyebrows questioningly and his ears burn under that amused scrutiny as he fights down his rising blush ( _somehow he just knows Yuki is watching this and laughing at him_), which has mercifully ebbed by the time he clears his throat and tries again. “It’s fine.” He raises a hand, curls it gently over Yue’s hip. Yue isn’t dressed in his robes, the formal garb of white and blue and silver he wears to weave spells with Sakura, nor even the well-worn shirt and jeans Yukito had been lounging on the couch in moments before; instead, the slender figure kneeling with legs splayed about his own is clad in some kind of simple tunic, and as Touya smoothes his fingers beneath soft fabric, Yue shudders, making his knees squeeze inwards where they bracket Touya’s thighs.

“Well,” says Touya, pulse jumping in his throat, because at this point he can’t really think of anything else; Yue leans forward a little to lay his arms about his shoulders and over the back of the couch, bringing them almost nose to nose, shifting his warm weight forward a little in Touya’s lap. This close he can see the emotion shifting in those mercurial eyes and warm breath stirs his hair when Yue sighs, anticipation quickening the heat flickering in his belly. “What did you want to talk about?”

But Yue doesn’t answer, not with words, and the only warning Touya has is a flash of silver as warm lips close over his own.

The kiss is soft, a little awkward and quite quick; the hesitance Touya can feel in the press of that mouth against his own prompts him to ease back gently, even as Yue tries to push forward, and as much as he wants to lean into this embrace ( _he does, he does, because this is the first time Yue has ever kissed him and he doesn’t want to lose this_ ) Touya pulls back.

“Yue…”

Yue shakes his head; the motion tumbles the long snake of his hair over his shoulder to pool heavily on the couch cushions and slump onto the carpet. “I wanted… I tried to, tried to kiss you like Yukito does but I don’t think I did it right,” and there is something sharp and prickly and a little bit  _hurt_  in that cool gaze, and Touya thinks  _oh_ , as sudden understanding hits him. But regardless of the giddy little feeling spreading warmly through him, Yue looks away and refuses to meet his eyes, shoulders slouching and wings folded against his back, as though he is trying to make himself smaller, trying to make himself  _disappear_ -

That warm feeling is swallowed up in a rush of chill fear and Touya thinks  _no_ , because he has been there before, watched someone he loved fade before his eyes,  _no_ ,  _I won’t let you_. He will not sit by and watch it happen again through his own inaction, not when he can do something to prevent it; so when Yue tries to leave Touya surges forward, locks his arms about a slender waist and holds him still even as he struggles. It’s not easy; wide wings flare out at the motion, beat heavily at the air once, twice, and for a moment Touya fears the couch is going to tip over from the force of it, and his hands splay over the small of Yue’s back, palms tingling where he can feel magic ripple beneath soft skin as the moon spirit tries to free himself.

Even with Yue trying to pry loose his grip, Touya manages to loop one arm tighter about Yue’s waist, freeing the other to slide a hand up the curving line of his back; Yue makes a sound, a small one, half-swallowed and mostly unwilling when his fingertips brush feathers, but the shiver that races down his slender frame ( _hips rocking forward, pressing close and stirring need in the base of his belly_ ) makes a lie of the tight expression that thins his lips and puckers his brow.

“Yue, listen,” says Touya, and times the words with a stroke of his fingers against the downy softness at the start of one wing, “listen to me,” and the whole pinion quivers, feathers rustling in a silken rush of sound; Yue turns his head away, refuses to meet his gaze, but Touya has come too far ( _come too close_ ) to stop here, and pushes his hand up through the slits in the back of the thin tunic to thread his fingers through feathers. “Please,” he says, and this time Yue looks at him, confusion obvious even in the thin, nervous slits of dark pupils, “please listen.”

“Why? I thought you didn’t want…”

“I want you to kiss me,” says Touya, honesty making his voice a little thick, “I want you to kiss me like  _you_  want to, not how you think I want you to, or even how Yuki would-  _you’re not him_ ,” and the words come easy now, Yue trembling and quiescent in his grip, his heart thumping heavy in his chest, “you’re not Yuki, I’ve  _never_  thought of you as him, you’ve always been your own self and I wouldn’t have you try to be anything else.”

Slowly, cool hands come to rest on his shoulders, slender fingers clutching tight at the seams of his shirt.

“You’re not Yukito. You’re  _Yue_ , and I don’t want you to feel you have to be anyone else, because you  _don’t_.” Touya smiles now, because he can, because this is  _right_  and warmth blooms in his chest as Yue’s sharp gaze melts soft around the edges. “Whatever you want, whatever you need from me, just tell me,” he says, and the fluttering feeling in his belly doubles itself, heart beating madly in his chest and pulse racing with an excitement he can’t quite contain.

“Touya,” whispers Yue and before he can respond, before he can open his mouth to say  _it’s okay, whatever you need, anything, anything at all, just tell me_  soft lips close over his own in a rush of warmth and something that tastes like magic.

This kiss is different. There is doubt, yes, a hesitance in the press of their mouths together, like Yue doesn’t quite believe him yet- but it fades away into nothingness as desire licks through them both in a sudden rush of heat, jumping like a spark between their lips; Touya groans, he can’t stop himself ( _can’t and won’t, because he has never needed to hide how he feels before and he’s not going to start now_ ) and the long fingers that clutch his shoulders tighten their grip in a helpless spasm as Yue surges closer, closer and the kiss quickly spirals down into something wet and hungry.

“I wanted,” gasps Yue eventually, words melting into his mouth as Touya drags in a breath that tastes like ice, “ _I wanted you for myself_ ,” and loses it the next moment as one hand threads cool fingers through his hair, “just knowing you through Yukito wasn’t enough,” and Touya has to pull helplessly at the cloth at the small of Yue’s back, fabric rippling as his wings move because  _gods, yes, yes_ , _I wanted you too_ , and the quick flash of silver in Yukito’s eyes when pleasure crashed down over him was not the  _same_  no matter how wonderful it was. He kisses back harder, firmer, and Yue nips gently at his bottom lip in retaliation. “I tried to tell him, but he already knew. He  _always_  knows,” and this time something like rueful laughter edges Yue’s words and Touya grins into another kiss, the image of Yuki’s sweet but still so  _knowing_  smile coming to mind.

“He said you wouldn’t mind,” continues Yue, a bit breathless, pulling back a little to look him in the eye- so Touya has a perfect view of the way catslit pupils are swollen and dark, making heat lurch urgently in his belly. Yue kisses him again, a chaste and gentle brush of lips, as though he is still getting used to the idea he can, and Touya swallows heavily. The cool disdain that normally chills those eyes to frosted silver is gone, so far away now, and he’s not sure whether it’s the magic he can taste on those ( _swollen, kiss-bitten_ ) lips or the way Yue rocks forward in his lap that makes him feel dizzy.

“He said he wanted this too,” and Touya has a flash of memory ( _he’ll come around_ ) at those words, followed quickly by a rush of impossible affection for the man he loves ( _Yuki, Yuki, oh Yuki_ ), for the  _men_  he loves, both of them,  _he loves both of them_ \- and Yue makes a sound that he will later deny was a startled squeak when Touya curls his hand around the back of a graceful neck and pulls him down to seal their mouths together once more.

He doesn’t stop until Yue has fisted his hands in his shirt and is pulling frantically, pulling like he would tear it off his chest, and when Touya snakes his hands up Yue’s back to scrunch his hands into feathers ( _soft, so soft between his fingers and tingling where power hums beneath his fingertips_ ) the moon spirit groans pleadingly ( _desperately, hungrily_ ) into his mouth and shakes from head to foot, and  _that_  makes him pull back and stare in something like amazement as a heated pink flushes milky skin.

“You like that,” says Touya, and it’s not a question. He traces a lazy fingertip over the arch of a wing, and Yue shivers, bucking his hips forward. Touya raises an eyebrow. “You really, really like that,” and the look Yue is giving him would be venomous but for the way eyelids flutter shut helplessly as he runs his hands through feathers and  _strokes_ , firm and with no intention of stopping.

“I want,” says Yue, eyes closed, head tipped back, “I want you to take my clothes off.  _Now_.” His voice is strained, all elegance lost; hot blood thunders down Touya’s body and pools in his groin at the sound, leaving him reeling with the rush of it, and before he can even open his mouth to say  _but can’t you just magic them away_  he is already moving.

The sleeves of his tunic are a little tricky to deal with with Yue’s fingers tangled in his hair, scraping fingernails down the nape of his neck and drumming fingertips against his shoulder in time with the beat of his quickening heart- but he gets there in the end, mostly by distracting him with the hot trail of his mouth down the line of that pale, bare throat, lips pressed against the racing hum of Yue’s hammering pulse. It’s not until Touya tries to untangle cloth and wings and long hair that Yue gets irritated at his lack of progress, and pulls back from him with an annoyed huff; his wings snap out, wide and pearly white in the light of the living room lamp, and fabric tears in a rush of wind and feathers as Yue’s shirt flicks off the tip of one wing and flutters down to the kitchen floor half a room away.

And maybe the noise that comes out of Yue’s mouth as he bends his head down to lick a wet stripe across pale, glowing skin was meant to be a sarcastic statement about his uselessness, but then Touya flicks his tongue against a pink, peaked nipple and suddenly long fingers are clenched white-knuckled on the back of the couch as Yue leans forward, into the press of his lips as they trail over his shivering chest, and the only sounds coming from that ( _wet, hot_ ,  _sweet_ ) panting mouth are breathy little gasps making triumph roll in his belly.

_Yes, finally, yes; Yukito, I could kiss you for this, I will kiss you for this, later, swear you’re going to know just how much I love you both tonight-_

He has permission to curl his hands about narrow hipbones, has been  _ordered_  to in fact, so when he tugs on the snug waist of what are probably tights Yue offers no protest and merely collapses against him as he works stretching fabric down over lean thighs, just enough to let him trail his tongue down the trembling muscles of Yue’s smooth, flat stomach and lick at the shadowed dip of his navel. Yue makes a choked noise when Touya’s hands curl around his thighs, lifting him up high on his knees, and doubles over as Touya’s lips graze the crease where thigh meets hip with deliberate intent.

His legs are shaking, arms shaking, whole body rippling with need- and when Touya lowers his head to suck the hard length of him into his mouth, there is a gusting whirl of sweet, powdery wind and feathers as Yue’s wings flare wide and arching above them both.

_“Touya-!”_

The blinds are rattling, wind gusting around the loungeroom and making the cushions roll over the floor where they have fallen from the couch- which is creaking dangerously under him, rocking a little as Yue’s wings beat at the air, again and again, but Touya isn’t going to stop for anything less than a lightning strike at this point, and curls his tongue experimentally in the way he knows Yukito likes; he shivers with a rush of cold and tingling magic as Yue cries out throatily and frost showers down on them both in a sudden burst of glowing power. His fingers dig bruises into Yue’s thighs, splayed wide over straining muscle as Yue tries to buck his hips, but Touya holds him still as he works his way down, torturously slow, and when he swallows, once, twice, Yue shudders helplessly above him.

“Touya, Touya,  _Touya_ \- I, I can’t-”

Melting snow drips from his hair, works its way in shivering trickles down under his shirt, nowhere near cold enough to chill the heat that curls insistently in his belly, aches hot between his legs as Yue moans, thick in his throat when Touya hollows his cheeks and draws back only to sink down again; a trembling hand brushes his cheek, fingers trailing over the his cheekbone and sweeping up towards his ear to thread through his damp hair as Yue whispers something that could be  _please, please, no more, I can’t-_

But he doesn’t stop, can’t stop ( _not now not when he’s crying out like that_   _not when he’s trembling on the edge_ ), so when Yue’s voice fractures on a strangled, half-choked scream, Touya holds him tight, arms locking about trembling legs for support as Yue quakes and shivers and cries out - back arching, wings snapping, the air thick with magic and feathers and the scent of snow-  trembling hands falling to his hair, his shoulders, stroking against his face as Touya draws this out as long as he can.

When he finally pulls back, still swallowing, his lips are wet and sticky- but he resists the urge to lean forward and smear his mouth against the smooth pale arch of Yue’s hip, if only just, and when he licks his lips clean of the mess and glances upwards, a hungry sheen glows in quicksilver eyes. Touya’s pulse jumps erratically in his throat as his hands smooth up over still-quivering thighs to curl around his waist, fingers spread wide over the small of Yue’s back as he sinks slowly down, legs splayed slack and loose when he comes to rest in Touya’s lap- but the desire that curls needfully in his belly is easy enough to ignore, and he is more than happy to simply share the afterglow that warms and softens icy features.

Yue blinks lazily, slit pupils swollen and dark with something like the echoes of satisfaction, and Touya smiles at the sight of it as Yue smiles right back, the slow beat of his wings calming to a relaxed stillness as his plumage rustles and he folds his wings to settle gently across the length of his back. Soft feathers tickle against the backs of his hands and Touya sighs, Yue solid and heavy and wonderfully  _real_  in his lap, and something tight and fearful slips loose in his belly.

_Mine, mine, and you’re not going anywhere._

They are quiet for a moment, still and silent in each other’s company, and when Yue winds his arms hesitantly around Touya’s shoulders, fingers crumpling the fabric of his t-shirt nervously, he doesn’t think twice about returning the embrace, wrapping the slender figure in his arms and simply holding on as Yue’s breathing steadies and the last shivering ripples of pleasure fade away.

“I won’t stay for much longer,” says the moon spirit eventually; his voice is soft and a little hoarse, tickling the just-damp hair above Touya’s right ear.

Touya tucks his head into the curve of Yue’s neck and sighs slowly, watching his breath stir the downy wisps of feathers. “You don’t have to go. You can stay. Yuki won’t mind.”  _I want you to stay_ , he thinks, but he doesn’t say it, and in the end the decision is Yue’s and he will not force the moon spirit to give more when already he has given so much; what they have shared tonight is still new and precious and he will not risk it by moving too fast.

“Mm,” says Yue, a sleepy little sound, and strokes one hand down Touya’s back, fingertips tracing the bump of his spine. “I could. But I am tired and it’s getting harder for me to stay awake. Besides,” adds the moon spirit, affecting a cool tone that doesn’t quite mask the post-sex warmth in his voice, “I am sure Yukito would like very much to talk to you right now, and I’m sure the two of you have better things to do with your evening then cater to me.”

There’s a crisp edge to his words that sounds almost possessive, and Touya grins against Yue’s shoulder. He’d love to say something to tease here, something to counter the snippy way Yue has of speaking, but there’s not yet that level of familiarity between them. Not yet, but soon enough. Maybe next time.

( _and there will be a next time, and another, and another and another after that- he has both of them now and he has no intention whatsoever of letting go_ )

And because he is sure of what he sees in silvery, violet-flecked winter eyes ( _contentment_   _and tenderness and hard-won affection_ ) he merely smiles into the soft kiss Yue brushes against his mouth and doesn’t close his eyes against the moon-dazzle that sweeps over pale hair and glowing skin, fading from a brilliant flare of icy magic that tingles beneath his hands to leave Yuki smiling peacefully down at him as he raises his arms and stretches with a languorous roll of his bare shoulders.

“Touya,” says Yukito, soft eyes happy, “Touya,  _To-ya_.”

“Yes?”

“You missed a spot.” A warm thumb grazes the corner of his mouth, brushing away a trace of wetness- and that Yukito’s hands feel  _warm_  tells Touya just how cold he is as the shivers he has been fighting off for the past ten minutes crash over him. He pushes up closer to Yuki, pressing up against bare skin still flushed with warmth. “Why is our lounge room half-covered in melting snow?” asks Yuki and Touya shrugs his shoulders helplessly as his teeth start to chatter.

Yukito frowns and pulls him closer. “You’re  _freezing_ \- we should get you out of those wet clothes and into a warm bed.” There’s a definite note of mischief in his voice now and Touya just shakes his head; he doesn’t even have to look to know the cheeky grin Yuki is favouring him with, and he makes a noise that could be a protest as Yuki shuffles off his lap and stands up, tucking himself back into his jeans and pulling them up once more. He doesn’t both with his buttons though, and his shirt, lying torn and lonely on the kitchen floor is a stark reminder of the events just passed.

“Come on,” says Yuki, and grabs his hand to pull him upright. “Don’t step in a puddle… really have to talk to Yue about that, it didn’t happen last time,” mumbles his lover as he takes in the half-melting slurry pooling on his carpet, and the dripping icicles hanging from the edge of their coffee table. Touya blinks, mildly impressed; he remembered the chill of a sudden snowfall but hadn’t realised what it meant- admittedly, he had been otherwise preoccupied at the time…

…and he is still a little preoccupied now, obviously, because he’s halfway down the hallway before he even realises that Yuki is leading him by the hand- and to the bedroom, apparently, judging by the smile on his face and the wicked little gleam in dark eyes.

“Yuki,” he begins, not exactly sure what he’s going to say- but Yukito grabs him by the shirtfront and cuts him off with a kiss, sweet and a little fierce, and the banked and forgotten heat glowing in his belly like embers roars back into life like flame and licks through him in a sudden rush of shivering desire.

“I saw,” says Yuki, voice rough and warm, “I saw the whole thing. You gave him everything you could and did nothing for yourself, and I intend to make sure you know  _exactly_  how much I -how much  _we-_  appreciate you tonight. We can clean up later. _Much_  later,” and maybe there was a flash of silver in heavy-lidded eyes, but it’s  _Yuki_  that’s watching him now, and his heart thuds desperately in his chest as those eyes glide over his face.

_I love you so much._

“Okay,” says Touya, because he’s not going to argue, not with  _that_  look in Yukito’s eyes, and certainly not with the slender, strong hand curling fingers in the cloth of his shirt. But something nags at him all the same and he breaks away from a second kiss ( _hot and sweet and softening what little resistance he has_ ) with some difficulty. “Wait. We left your icecream on the table-”

“It’s fine,” says Yuki cheerfully, steering him through the bedroom door, and the bright, hungry gleam in his eyes has nothing to do with dessert. “The bowl’s frozen to the tabletop. It’ll still be there when we’re done. Probably,” adds his boyfriend, pushing him towards the bed. “After all, I think I’m going to take a little time tonight…”


End file.
